


Closed Doors

by SkartoArgento



Series: Drabbles [3]
Category: Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, and doing things in them, lifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:29:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2255913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkartoArgento/pseuds/SkartoArgento





	Closed Doors

It didn’t feel strange when Leon stepped into the lift and slipped his fingers around Buddy’s palm.

All right, perhaps it did, but not in the way he had expected. Not wrong. More like something missed from dead days of the past. Irina would slide her delicate hand in his, and he’d squeeze back. Their most simple, most intimate way of saying ‘I’m here.’

Leon’s hand was definitely not delicate. Callouses rubbed skin, born from aiming at a thousand targets (one of them Buddy himself in those dusty dead-days) and thick fingers insisted on twining themselves into his.

He tilted his head up, Leon’s smile at the edge of his vision. “What are you doing?”

Too late to be taken seriously.

Leon raised his eyebrows, that smile as innocent as a lamb and as hungry as a wolf all at once. “Holding your hand,” he said, as though this was something they did all the time, “that okay?”

He began to say something, he didn’t quite know what, and then the doors opened.

No one outside, but in a quick side-step, Leon pressed shoulder against shoulder, their hands hidden between their bodies. Warm. The doors closed.

“Coward.” He made sure to smile as he said it, even though he was sure every part of him trembled with woken nerves.

“Do you think so?” The wolf ate the lamb and showed his teeth.

The lift pinged down to the next floor. When the doors opened, three people walked in, two women in suits and a man with a newspaper.

“Hold the door,” said Leon, and when one of the women pushed the button, he reached up. His other hand found Buddy’s neck. The kiss was no more than a brush of lips. Two seconds of skin.

It should not have made him stagger. It should not have made him whimper.

And then Leon slipped away from him, past the people and out of the lift. Those fingers, that he could still feel against his in some phantom longing, waved. “See you later, Buddy.”

The doors closed. None of the people could look at him. He pressed his fingers into his eyes, and tried to pretend the kiss hadn’t happened. With the soft tingle of his lips, it was far too hard to do.


End file.
